The village was in an uproar. Who could have committed such an abomination? How would Eguologo be placated? Aduloge, the high priest, had been summoned by the council of elders for divination.

Jaws dropped at the revered one’s intoxicated dance as he zigzagged his way to the gathering.

“Aduloge, what is the meaning of this?” Nwalibe the wise bellowed.

“I cut down the sacred tree!” Aduloge slurred brazenly.

The crowd ceased murmuring, exchanging glances in utter bewilderment.

“I renounce my title as high priest of Eguologo. The forest spirit can eat dirt for all I care. More palm wine please?”

[100 words]

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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